


Red is Vicious

by hoars



Series: tell me we're dead and i'll love you even more [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood Play, Cannibalism, F/M, Gore, M/M, Madness/Insanity, Minor Character Deaths, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-10
Updated: 2012-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-18 08:37:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoars/pseuds/hoars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or that’s how the story supposedly goes. </p><p>Derek doesn’t know for sure. It’s the lesson that the story teaches that’s important: human mates are /dangerous/.</p><p>(companion to Red is a Madness)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red is Vicious

**Author's Note:**

> Companion to Red is a Madness.
> 
> Character Deaths are Argent Parents.
> 
> Or maybe the misspelled word is in this one?
> 
> Another piece of crazy that was born in the middle of Festival of Red.

Victors write history, and the story told to the Grimm brothers about a girl with a red cloak came from a young woman with copper hair and wicked eyes and her husband whom worshiped his wife with an intensity that wasn’t decent for anyone but God.

The woman tells them of a young maiden, fourteen summers who would wear a cloak of bright red so her doting parents may watch her venture down the path to her ill grandmother’s for the color was bright and noticeable from great distances.

 (The woman makes no mention of how the maiden’s mother planned to use yellow like daffodils, but the maiden shed tears, crying it had to be red, red like the breast of a robin and the mother relented fearing for her daughter as the maiden refused nourishment, growing sickly until she could finally wear red.)

The maiden walked the path daily, delivering meat pies and mead to her bedridden grandmother. It was on such a walk to grandmother’s a wolf crossed her path. The wolf was large with fangs like knives. He spoke like a man and questioned her. “To grandmother’s I go, for she is ill.”

“Admirable to brave the woods each day for your dear grandmother. Perhaps I too can aid you. I know of a clearing with the most lovely blooms that would make her heart lighten.”

The girl thought deeply afraid of losing track of the path if she stepped off it, but grandmother hasn’t smelt flowers for so long it _would_ lighten her heart greatly if Dagmar, then called Red, brought her some. So the maiden agreed and followed the wolf to clearing.

 (The woman does not mention how the wolf made the maiden laugh and ran alongside the maiden until Red was sure she was flying at the wolf’s side.)

The wolf continued to lead the maiden off the path each day, leading her further and further from the path.

The woman pauses, as if thinking and William shares a glance with his brother.

(They do not know she wishes to say the wolf leads the maiden to a flower that will cause children and old to sleep heavily, whispers in her ear to put it in the mead so he may show her a secret. She does not say the wolf, eager races Red to her grandmother’s or that she doses grandmother and the wolf shifts into a man. A man with wolf eyes that makes her feel hot, makes her bold and pull him into her red cloak’s embrace. She doesn’t say they make love or the huntsman Red’s cries attract, who knows the wolf by sight of his cursed eyes. Not one word passes her lips of how the huntsman barges into the cottage, aiming for the wolfman’s head, or of how Red screams in a possessed fit and uses shears to split the huntsman. She breathes nary a word of Red feeding the wolf chunks of her grandmother so the wolf would regain his strength.)

 The woman tells the brothers the story that you know today, a red quilt on her marriage bed.

Or that’s how the story supposedly goes.

Derek doesn’t know for sure. It’s the lesson that the story teaches that’s important: _human mates are dangerous._

He should have remembered that, he thinks, his head resting on his Stiles’ stomach. He can still taste blood in his mouth, feel human flesh in his teeth. His mate is running a hand through his hair, soothing like his mate’s heartbeat. Stiles crooning softly.

His pack lays around the bonfire, following their alpha’s lead. Scott, his beta, right hand, is sitting against a tree, his mate in his lap, Allison licking at the blood left by her mate’s injuries, her scent a combination of trouble and arousal. Lydia and Isaac are curled together, sleeping soundly, sharing breaths. Boyd and Erica are star gazing, sharing their stories of the constellations. Derek will have to tell them their creation story soon, teach them about the culture they were now a part of. Closer to the fire is Danny and Jackson. Jackson is sitting between Danny’s legs, his hands held tightly between two red gloved hands (his pack, collecting vicious mates, he’s proud) and whispering one sentence over and over that has Jackson loose and relaxed.

Human mates are dangerous.

He can remember the night he tangled his life to Stiles. The boy waiting on his bed, flipping through a book about werewolf myths, questions and notations in the margin, wearing a red Derek sees whenever he lets the wolf take over in the blocks of his plaid shirt. Derek is tired, hurt from his encounter with the hunters and desperate to sleep his injuries away. His wolf though, his wolf is tense and alert, completely focused on Stiles and in turn, Derek focuses completely on the boy, knowing something is different.

Stiles is talking, always talking and the words are a buzz in Derek’s ears, standing up from Derek’s bed. A smile like none other he’s seen the boy wear tugging on his mouth, like he knows a secret. Yes, exactly like that. Like Stiles knows something Derek doesn’t but he should because it’s vital and Derek must’ve just missed it. Whatever it is, staring him in the face.

Derek the wolf and Derek the man do nothing when the boy tugs once on the hem of his shirt and then uses both hands to manvoer it over Derek’s head. And Derek lets it happen, feeling helpless to do anything but watch Stiles’ movements in a daze.

His chest is bare, his side colored red. The hunters’ weapons cutting deeply into his flesh, Derek’s side covered in blood, the injury fading into red lines. He remains still, Stiles reaching out to touch the skin above his heart, looking Derek in the eyes with a curious light.

Derek’s senses are strained on the boy. His nose smelling the tree sap and smoke that always follows Stiles around. He can hear the steady beat of his heart, the rustle of his clothes. Can see the glint in his eyes, the smile like an incarnate knot, and the gentle glide of his fingers down his chest to dance through the drying blood. Derek should be pinning the insolent human to the wall, burying his teeth in his throat, maybe ripping out his voice box as a favor to mankind.

Stiles – Stiles slips to his knees, his hands on Derek’s hips steadying him – the image of Stiles on his knees, his face tilted so their eyes are embracing is one that rattles Derek completely – and the little shit is licking the blood from Derek’s side, hungry, iron sharp in Derek’s nose. He holds Stiles’ hands to his hips, body twitching at the feel of that tongue cleaning him. The boy is thorough, pleased hums and moans from his throat to Derek’s ears, his hips twitching. The wolf makes them whine, pleasure at a mate cleaning them. The sound the man makes is more desperate, convinced the human boy is going to devour them.

He grabs the boy behind the neck, pulls him back to – ask him what the hell he’s doing, maybe make demands of his own– the sight of blood around Stiles’ mouth causing a whine to leave his throat unbidden and he’s manvouering them to the mattress, Stiles settling between his legs and continuing his lapping, Derek’s hand heavy on the back of the boy neck.

When Derek kisses him, Stiles’ tastes like blood and chocolate.

He should have remembered, he thinks, Stiles licking a hunter’s blood from his mouth, but he didn’t. He trails his hands up Stiles’ shirt, feeling his mate shiver, smell his want and Stiles is spoiled. If his boy wants Derek to take him right here, in the snow with their pack present Derek will. His mate’s eyes edge him on and Derek follows through.

Allison is the one who brought it to his awareness.

She comes to Derek when Stiles is at his feet, his head pressed into his knee, the both of them enjoying being together. Whines and purrs their only communication. Stiles doesn’t even open his eyes and Derek hides how she unsettles him when she sits next to Stiles on the floor, ignoring the other chairs in the room like Stiles had done. She touches Stiles first, a brush against arm and then touches Derek with her fingertips.

She tells Derek they need to get rid of the hunters in Beacon Hills. Do something to warn off future hunters. Derek can smell her anger, her relief and doesn’t understand the girl. Four months ago, she was a hunter’s daughter and evidence pointed at her loving her parents dearly. Today, she proposes hunting the rest of her family and their allies and leaving no survivors. And this former hunter’s daughter tells him of her dream of having cubs, she uses the word _cubs_ , running free, unafraid.

He pets Stiles neck and thinks.

He remembers his family, their teachings of hiding in plain sight, of self defense, of the smell of roasted flesh that smelt like sweet roasted pork, thinks of Peter and his desire for vengeance and his pack now. He cares for them all. Isaac, vulnerable and obedient, fierce Erica with a fire that burns, Boyd, patient and calm, a tree deeply rooted in the middle of wind howls, Scott, headstrong and so willing to fight, Jackson, broken and craving approval, Danny, empathic and kind, Lydia, lost and tired of being afraid, Allison, loyal and terrible, Stiles, mate.

“Tell me.”

It’s a simple plan.

Allison enters her former home, calling for her father.

Scott, Erica, Isaac and Lydia enter the home from Allison’s bedroom window. They will snuff out the lives slumbering. Boyd, Jackson and Derek will handle the ones patrolling the area. Danny blocking all cell phone use and wifi from Lydia’s car. Stiles ready to pick out shrapnel, shove wolfsbane ash into wounds,  and what have you.

Derek hires someone to build a home for his pack, big enough to house them all and their dreams in the wake of death his pack wrecked.

He knows Allison desires cubs, can smell it on her and the only reason she doesn’t ask his permission is her decision to wait until all the hunters know better than to hunt here. The backyard he creates is vast with her in mind and he incorporates as much of his knowledge of child werewolves as he can into their home.

He’s aware of Danny ripping Jackson apart with horrible truths and putting him back together with loving ones. He can hear their words whenever Danny seems to think Jackson needs them. Late at night, before lunch and in the lull of activity and their windows are large, always letting the light of day or night in.

He knows Isaac plans on asking Lydia to be his mate, to make it official instead of a thing assumed. He can read it in how they cling together at night, their nightmares a common denominator and how Isaac disappears for days, a book in his hands the only explanation. He tells the contractors about a library that has built in shelves for Lydia’s presents and a nook for her and Isaac to sit together.

He’s aware of the men and women Erica brings home and kicks out, sometimes shares with Boyd. Their game a twisted one of jealousy and taunting. He asks the walls be reinforced with them in mind. Violence not a strange presence in the bed of two werewolves.

No one room would appease Stiles, so Derek hands him everything.

“When I’m with you, I’m not sure which of us is the wolf.” Derek whispers.

“Does it matter?” Stiles asks. “Red Riding Hood has never had any objections to being eaten by the big bad wolf.”

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [all the reds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/651766) by [triesquid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/triesquid/pseuds/triesquid)




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